


Guns & Roses

by Himmelreich



Series: Flower Shop AU [3]
Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 01:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19453930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himmelreich/pseuds/Himmelreich
Summary: “You need to stop breaking into this place. I swear, Harklight would love nothing more than see you getting shot by house security one day.”>>> Set in花言葉 (Hanakotoba)'stimeline.





	Guns & Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosiel_AZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosiel_AZ/gifts).



> 紅薔薇 (Benibara)  
> Red roses speak of _genuine love_.
> 
> A very, _very_ belated birthday gift for our dear Rosiel! This little ficlet has been around for about three years now, and I recently found it again in my drafts and decided to try and finish it. Thank you once more again for everything you've done for the fandom!

The moment the heavy door falls shut behind him, Slaine leans his back against it and closes his eyes. For a moment, he just enjoys the dead silence within his own four walls, the cool steel against his back, the absence of anyone vying for his attention. Even though the chaos following his taking over the operation was slowly dying down and the factions stabilising, he still finds himself constantly challenged by some of the old guard who thought themselves better suited to the job.

Somehow, the clear evidence that their approach lead to the previous head’s downfall didn’t get through to them as writing on the wall that it was time for change.

With a sigh, Slaine pushes himself off his current resting spot, taking off his shoes and coat before entering the apartment proper. Just after a few steps, he can instantly tell that something is different. The spacious hallway is immaculate as always, and a short glance at the hi-tech alarm system panel on the wall tells him it's still operating just fine. No signs of forced entry, and yet, there is a scent that had not been there when he left this place in the early morning hours.

Rounding the corner towards the open living room, he locates the source in the centre of the dining table. There's a bouquet of dark-red, full-bodied roses, and he steps closer to take in the heavy perfume, eyes closed.

“You need to stop breaking into this place. I swear, Harklight would love nothing more than see you getting shot by house security one day.”

When Slaine turns around, he sees Inaho lean in doorway of the hall leading towards the bedroom. He is barefoot and wearing track pants and a t-shirt that Slaine is almost sure is his – it has gotten somewhat difficult to keep track between their casual wardrobes at this point – and his hair is almost black with water from a recent shower, the excess water dripping into the towel around his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d give me a key and full access already.”

“And deprive you of the challenge?”

“This system hardly counts as one. You should invest in better security.”

“Right, whatever would I do if an assassin broke in?”

In the dim twilight within the apartment, the only source being the other highrises in the district bleeding their light into the Tokyo night sky like ink on paper, Slaine barely catches the way Inaho’s lips curl into a smile.

“In any case, don’t get yourself shot. So what’s with this, did I miss an anniversary?” Slaine asks, nodding his head towards the unexpected flowers.

“Ah, no. I just thought you might enjoy them.” Inaho walks up to him now, brows slightly furrowed, and Slaine now notices there’s a yellowing bruise stretched across his cheekbown, just below his right eye.

“By which you mean they were leftovers at the shop,” he says teasingly, while at the same time measuring the other up. He seems otherwise outwardly unharmed, but then again he also was good at not showing anything even if he was not feeling well.

“Well, they might not have as many days in full bloom as ones bought at a regular store, but they weren’t really leftovers per se."

“Thank you in any case, Inaho.”

Slaine reaches out, gently brushing Inaho’s hair back to get a better look at the damage surrounding the man’s remaining healthy eye. Inaho patiently stills under his touch, not a hint of apprehension, even though the scar on the other side of his face should be a constant reminder of how dangerous this closeness of theirs was.

Sometimes, memories of their difficult past still overwhelm Slaine out of nowhere.

His sentiment must have shown on his face, because Inaho catches his wrist and his expression softens.

“It’s nothing,” he assures. “The Captain made us switch to a new rifle and the recoil was more than I expected."

It takes a moment for Slaine to process this utterly banal explanation in the face of his previous worry, and the relief pours out in a burst of laughter.

“So these kinds of things can even happen to a prodigy like you?”

“Seems so,” Inaho admits freely, gently pulling Slaine’s hand off his face in order to lean in and give him a kiss. 

“That was unexpected,” Slaine murmurs when he pulls back.

“What, the kiss, or the injury?”

“Yes.” He lets his head drop forward, resting it on Inaho’s shoulder. The wet tips of his hair are tickling his neck, but his skin is warm in the relative cool of the apartment, and it feels as if all the exhaustion of the entire week is seeping through Slaine’s bones, pooling at his feet.

“I could fall asleep like this in this very moment, I think.”

“You’ll ruin your suit.” Inaho’s voice is close and quiet, tone fond. “And the bath water will go cold.”

“Who cares,” Slaine groans, but still complies and shrugs out of his jacket to let Inaho hang it up for him. He knew his way around the place as if it was his own. Maybe in a way, it already was. “Today I had to suffer through the longest and most boring meeting I’ve ever had the dubious joy of co-hosting. I thought it was never going to end.”

There’s just a noncommittal hum in response.

“Somehow,” Slaine continues, muffled briefly as he pulls his undershirt over his head, “you’d think that this job would be more exciting, wouldn’t you.”

“Just months ago, someone bombed your office. Slaine, I’m not sure what kind of exciting you’re wanting for,” Inaho says dryly.

“Oh, right, that,” Slaine yawns. You really could get used to the most extreme things if they just happened at a high enough frequency, apparently. “But still, given what we deal in, you wouldn’t think there’d be that amount actual business meetings, money laundering tax returns and weekly stock trade reports involved. Or, you know, flower shops.”

“Well, the days where you could just kill someone on the street due to higher social standing are over in this country. If you’re smart and don’t want to get caught, you need to have as legal a facade as possible.”

This maxim, Slaine’s predecessors definitely adhered to.

“I don’t think I could ever have imagined what working in circles such as ours was going to be like, but I’m sure I’d have imagined something with a lot more fast cars, exclusive fancy parties, high-end liquor and femme fatales, and less of whatever you guys are.”

Inaho halts in his movement of finally towelling his own hair dry, blankly staring at Slaine.

“Femme fatale?”

Slaine pulls a face but refuses to go back on what he said. It is hard to imagine what he might have thought the life in this particular circle of organised crime to be like, back before that one fateful September day when everything began to change orever. He had been so very naive, he knows now.

“No offence to your sister. I mean, I know that she can hit a 500 yen coin from a kilometre away, I’m not questioning her skill, but she hardly matches the common mental image of a female assassin.”

“Which is the point, really," Inaho says, frowning. And then, after a short pause: “I probably don’t qualify, either. For many reasons.”

Slaine thinks of how he got to know the man who has been at his side as his romantic partner for over a year, now, as nothing more than an unassuming store clerk. He still looks the part even now that Slaine knows exactly what Inaho is capable of. Different from the Vers Group, Deucalion didn’t waste time and resources on a polished exterior and expensive status symbols. Maybe that was the secret to their efficiency, but in any case, Slaine is sure things would never have turned out like this if Inaho weren’t who he is.

“I wouldn’t want you any different,” he says, and means it.

This time, there’s no missing Inaho’s smile, even though all he gets as a reply is: “The water really will be cold at this point.”

Raising his hands in defeat, Slaine makes for the bathroom, but turns back at the door, hesitant.

“Will you be staying?”

“No new assignments queued up for now, so I planned on being around for a few days. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. You know I’m always more than happy to see you, flowers or no.” Slaine grins. “Just remind me to give you a key tomorrow, or at some point, you _will_ end up getting shot.”

**Author's Note:**

> ((Despite certain rumours, I'm not dead yet ~~probably~~. Just unfortunately very busy! I will try to wrap up the WIPs eventually, but I'm afraid I'll have to ask for even more patience from your side. A big thank you to all the kind readers, as always! You guys are great.))
> 
> And yes, the title is a [Baccano!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOZ1hsb8smQ) reference. Am I still a bit mad @myself for not setting this AU in the 1920s? ~~Maybe.~~


End file.
